10,000KM
CLOCKED AT
BULLS
I realised (rather stupidly) that there is one
hell of a lot of New Zealand out to the sides
of SH1, on both sides. My original plan was to
circumnavigate Mt Egmont, on the coast, all
the way round to New Plymouth.
But now, I have to do a serious route plan
rethink. The chasing weather bomb is coming
ashore in Whanganui tonight, it will bring
four days of torrential rain, and may even join
up with a southward-tracking cyclone from
the Coral Sea. I may have a window to sneak
around Egmont in the morning, but the rest
of my trip homeward will be in storm and
tornado conditions. Not good. Will I head up
the middle stop in Turangi, and go home the
next day? Hell no. Defeatist stuff that.
I’m dead keen on the Raetihi Road and the
Paraparas, if I cannot do the big coast loop
this trip. I opt for running into Whanganui
and doing my first night's camping of the trip
at the Top 10 Holiday Park. Right, a plan was
formed.
The Manawatu country is so good it needs
its own trip alone and I began planning a big
new figure eight loop with both capes of the
North Island.
I rode into Whanganui and passed down the
side of the mighty Whanganui River. I passed
three firebombed houses, by the looks, and
wasn't convinced the neighbourhood is too
welcoming. At the Holiday Park four guys in
a car gave me a serious look over, and check
out the bike. They looked at me hard, and
I could see that they were not a welcoming
committee. These guys were not white or
brown, or black, green, or purple. Just local
dudes I was just getting some serious ‘vibe’
from. First time ever. I found I was thinking
about defending the bike, locking it up, the
tent security, or lack thereof at some scruffy
tent site, so I decided to get a cheap motel
unit. Booking into the motel, these same
guys cruise past, and check me over again.
I’m a little wary, now. I book into this dump,
(hell, my budget is blown) advertised with
a pool. I’m keen for a swim. but the pool
area has a broken, rusted and immovable
gate, and a foetid algal bloom that would kill
cockroaches.
No swimming then.
At the nearby Burger King I dined like a king
(not) the same car and crew cruised past,
with another in tow behind it. They saw my
bike, turned and passed back through the
car park. Disappearing. I’m tired and slightly
freaked, so I go back to the motel unit, ram
open the doors, squeeze my bike into the
lounge, close the curtains, lock the doors and
windows and go to sleep. If the owners want
to complain, let them.
KIWI RIDER 85